


Dead Men Don't Speak

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Boys Kissing, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force-Feeding, Geoffrey takes care of Jonathan, Grief/Mourning, Jonny is a Sad Little Leech, M/M, Mild Blood, Muteness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rats, Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Starvation, after the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jonathan returned from Scotland a shattered man and Geoffrey tries to help him through it all.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	Dead Men Don't Speak

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off for a little while now and I finally finished it in between my other projects. This was an intense angsty situation that I woke up thinking about one day and decided I wanted to write it. I hope it is satisfactory!

Dr. Jonathan Emmet Reid had lost it all.

He stood in the rubble of his life, a Champion to behold with nothing left to live for in this desolate existence. He lost everything. He lost his mortality, his humanity, his job, his colleagues and friends. He lost his mentor to a fire that of which she stoked the flames herself with the determination to end her own flailing and bittersweet life. He killed his own sister in a moment of primal weakness beyond his own fragile comprehension. He watched people kill each other out of selfishness and cold blooded rage. He watched a war engulf an entire continent and felt lives slip between his fingers one by one in a mockery of some macabre play where his misery was the main plot and the audience was silently watching on as he fumbled and struggled with quiet sneers and jilted amusement.

With Edgar's death and Lady Ashbury's suicide, there was nobody left to keep the Pembroke running. By the time he returned from Scotland, the hospital was forced to shut its doors and the dedicated staff were left to find their own way in this unforgiving world. Jonathan had nothing to return to. His mother and Avery were both gone, taken by the wiles of time that ravaged them in the night. His home was a mausoleum of broken and bittersweet memories.

His words failed him, as they always did. No amount of talking ever fixed anything. During this whole ordeal, nobody cared to listen to a single word he had to say. No opinion, question or thought was good enough. No idea was valuable enough. A reputation didn't even hold up with a lifetime of experience backing it because the shortsighted ignorance of mankind was more forthcoming than logic and rationality. Rules were made to be broken. Lives were nothing more than puppets and playthings for them to parade around and shine their titles with.

Pembroke was a petri dish of bad decisions cultivated like a nest of bacteria vastly reproducing at breakneck speeds that went unchecked. Jonathan tried to administer some cure, some way to neutralize the plague that had taken over but it was too late. The immunity of each individual threat had mobilized its own evolutionary traits and mutated into an impenetrable force that inevitably consumed the body of this once sacred and reputable institution. 

Jonathan was beyond caring. It was all beyond salvation. With nothing left to return to, no purpose or duty to uphold. Nothing forcing his hand out of some skewed obligation that wasn't even _his_ to begin with, he surrendered himself to the silent halls of his childhood home where he locked the doors and resided. He cared not for company. The front entrance was barricaded as if to seal a crypt and deny even the most clever of grave robbers their admittance.

The weight of his guilt and his grief was a boulder that threatened to crush his bones into powder and damn him beneath its presence into an unforeseen grave. As if by force alone, it could coax the earth into opening a cavernous maw and graciously swallow the doctor into its pits and imprison him within a chasm of his own making. An underworld that was uniquely his own where silence was supreme, words were unnecessary and not a single mortal soul resided or mingled. He could die in this ethereal peace he had been seeking even if his body did not decay, he could fool himself with time until he remained nothing more than a tangible husk. Not even his eternal thirst could contend with such an existence.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Geoffrey had heard from his inner circle the moment Reid returned to London. It was only by chance that a patrol caught sight of the doctor as he walked the quiet streets from the boarded up Pembroke Hospital to his childhood home in the West End. He didn't stop to speak to a single soul along the way. He kept his head down, a haunted expression sunken into his face as he trudged through the bitter cold evening with a determined goal in mind. A scout lingered nearby and watched the house to ensure the ekon hadn't left before Geoffrey was alerted.

The Irishman arrived quickly upon receiving the news and listened intently to the detailed but short update on the leech. He dismissed his men back to their usual patrols and took it upon himself to approach the house. He knocked on the front door, expecting someone to answer but as he listened he didn't hear any movement inside the home. He waited a long time and knocked again, this time harder until his fist pounded the wood.

"Reid, it's me!" Geoffrey called, knowing the leech could hear him. The man could catch a drop of gossip from two rooms away when the sources were murmuring and whispering the dirty details. He could certainly hear Geoffrey on his front steps. Maybe he should have expected this. He wouldn't blame the man for avoiding him but curiosity stole his thoughts as he peered around the window frames and spotted an entire wardrobe braced against the door. No sign of Reid at all.

Eventually he retreated back to a proper hiding place and watched the house from where he was tucked out of view. There was no movement inside. No lights came on. No curtains moving in the windows.

He repeated this routine, hoping to catch the ekon as he left to feed but there was nothing. No slip of shadows. No lurking figures. The house was entirely dead inside. Reid's oldest friend even stopped by a few times to knock but even he went unanswered. The rumor mill was cycling that the esteemed Jonathan Reid had lost his mind with grief after the death of his mother and with the Pembroke shut down indefinitely, he had become the sole focus of gossip in the high end circles. People passed the house with poorly concealed chattering and pitying looks. Some smiled and laughed, talking badly of the Reid family as a whole before moving on with their falsely perfect lives.

Geoffrey bristled at the unanswered abuse that was turned towards the leech and his family. They may not have seen eye to eye in the past, but Dr. Reid was a man of passion in his field and a reliable ally in a fight that waged in the shadows. These very same people who spoke ill of the doctor had him to thank that they weren't a bunch of skals crawling in the refuse and muck in search of decaying morsels to feast upon. Reid gave everything to London, and it repaid him with pain and suffering in turn.

A week went by without any sign or sound from the manor. Two weeks passed in quiet agony. Geoffrey kept his men on rotating shifts during the nights with orders to report back to him about any changes. Both the front and back portions of the building were kept in view. Several people approached the home during this time, all of which were friends of the Reid family in some shape or form. Clarence Crossley and Charlotte Ashbury were common faces here. There were a few older faces who left flowers on the front steps when their knocks went unanswered. Some deposited notes and envelopes through the front slot of the door but not a single soul was allowed entry or greeted with the doctor’s presence. Even a couple of his old colleagues at the Pembroke passed by with curious glances.

The rumors shifted by the third week. Jonathan Reid was a crazed recluse, or the new favorite. They all assumed he may have ended his own life within the home and there were murmurs that they suspected his body was rotting away inside the house. These rumors even drew a familiar Inspector to the doctor’s front steps but any attempts to get inside, or more specifically, force his way inside the abode ended fruitlessly.

A solid month passed and Geoffrey refused to stand by any longer. The lack of knowledge was killing him and made him twitchy. This continuous absence wasn’t something he was used to. He went from running into the damnable leech every other night during the pandemic to this and it was honestly jarring and highly concerning. This was not something that Geoffrey expected out of Reid of all people.

He pulled the patrols back and went in on his own later that night. He had been eyeballing a prime spot earlier in the month should something like this be necessary. The perk of these fancy houses was all the decorative pieces on the exterior. They made for optimal foot and hand holds when scaling the wall towards the old balcony that connected to what he suspected were bedrooms. His boots hit the wood as it groaned under his weight and peered through the windows into each room. Judging by the decorations inside the first, it was Mrs. Reid’s old room. A bouquet of old dead roses wilted on the small table near the window. It looked otherwise untouched since her passing.

Geoffrey could sympathize with Jonathan’s pain. He understood to some extent what he was going through. He left to save London and returned home to nothing. He heard the news when it happened. Due to the reputation of the Reid family, Emelyne’s passing had made it into the papers and turned into just another gossip column for the toffs to tear apart with thinly veiled politeness and courteous nods hidden behind jaded smiles.

The hunter didn’t need any bigger clue that he had found the leech’s room. The messy workbench in the corner and the smaller bed were a dead giveaway. It was almost too dark to really make out much more than that, so he stepped towards the door and worked the lock open with expert fingers. He was rewarded with a click. He smirked and stepped inside the room. It was even harder to see now than when he was outside. The shadows spread and loomed in unnatural curtains of blackness. He narrowed his gaze and inspected his surroundings with a calculated eye. The subtle outline was very nearly missed, the distorted hump that pressed against the far wall as if it could conceal itself from his gaze.

Geoffrey approached and snatched the ekon up by his shirt collar, dragging him away from his hidden nook into the small pool of moonlight that splashed the bed and stretched in a narrow arch towards the workbench. Reid ragdolled at the end of his grasp, falling forward with unsteady legs. His skin was a sickly yellowish color, those bright pale blue pools were unnaturally glassy. His cheeks and jawline were far more prominent as his face started to sink in around the bone structure, skin thinned by dehydration and malnutrition. Jonathan could barely stay on his feet. Much of his weight leaned into Geoffrey’s grasp causing the hunter to raise his other arm to catch him when he keeled to the side and started to fall.

Carefully, Geoffrey guided the ekon towards the bed and let him settle in place. Jonathan’s head hung, avoiding Geoffrey’s scrutinizing gaze as if he were ashamed.

“What the fuck happened?” Geoffrey asked slowly, inspecting the shaken and unsteady appearance of the doctor. “Have you not been feeding this whole time?” His questions were met with silence. Geoffrey’s grip on Reid’s shoulders tightened, tempted to shake the man out of whatever stupor had him trapped in its clutches. This was absurd. It was like looking at a corpse face to face and that fact only twisted Geoffrey’s stomach up into tight little knots and made him sick.

“Jonathan.” He spoke firmly. “Look at me.”

Still no answer. No reaction or movement. The ekon’s head hung as his eyes fixed on the floor. Geoffrey gripped him by the jaw and forced him to meet his gaze. That glazed expression was unnerving. He stared at Geoffrey with eyes that didn’t truly see. As if he were so far out of his own mind that he might not even realize who was standing before him. He had enough consciousness to know to hide when Geoffrey came looking but even that was done poorly.

England’s savior and a Champion among vampires reduced to a lethargic husk of the man he once was. Geoffrey couldn’t even believe what he was seeing.

"Jonathan Reid." Geoffrey tried once more. He was met with an automatic blink before slowly, his eyes raised to meet Geoffrey's. His lips curled back into a snarl that bared his fangs in the moonlight before he forced himself to break eye contact. He resumed his mindless staring contest with the wall, blatantly ignoring Geoffrey altogether. He took that as a warning and stepped away. As his hands released the ekon, he slowly slumped over onto the bed and laid there still staring at a fixed point on the far side of the room.

Geoffrey shook his head and stormed out of the room, taking the steps two at a time down to the first floor where he took the opportunity to explore. The front door was indeed barricaded and Geoffrey assumed it was a conscious choice on the doctor's part to prevent unwary visitors from walking into the lion's den. He did move some of the furniture out of the way so he could unlock the front door and slip out easier. The Hunter didn't intend to stay gone for long.

Two hours later, he had returned successful. He had to give it to the leech, trying to catch these little fuckers was hard as they scurried across the streets and into their hidden nests of debris and heaps of garbage. But he did return triumphant with four rats trapped inside a box. He had to shove the door open with one arm causing the half made barricade to groan and creak as he wiggled through the narrow space to get inside. He quickly locked the entrance behind him and made his way up the stairs, more tired now from the rats than he was before.

Jonathan was right where he left him with the small change in positioning. He had curled up into a fetal position on the bed with his knees tucked to his chest and his face pressed into the bedding. All of which were stained with red smears down his cheeks that matted into the overgrown scruff of his beard. He looked like absolute shit.

"I brought you something to eat." Geoffrey announced with a pointed shake of the box. The little bodies of the rats slid around inside and squealed their dislike for the rough handling. The hunter ignored the cries of the vermin as he stalked towards the bed to try and get Jonathan's attention. He still seemed to stare unblinking at the fixed spot on the wall. Geoffrey purposely stood in front of it to try and disrupt his trance.

"Jonathan." He spoke sternly. Still no response. Geoffrey released a heavy sigh and fished out a rat from the box, hissing through his teeth when it tried to claw and bite at his hands. Even with his gloves on, the pinch of its teeth against the skin of his fingers still ached.

"You need to eat, Jonathan." He offered the squirming rat towards the ekon expecting him to react and latch on. He was apprehensive, wary even of the risk of losing his arm to the man's unquenched thirst. To his shock, Jonathan didn't even budge. He set the rat in front of his face but the squirming creature didn't elicit the usual feral response he'd come to expect from starved leeches.

"Jonathan?" He was met with a quiet warning growl as the ekon buried his face into the stained fabric of the bedding. "This is fucking ridiculous." Geoffrey cursed. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Still no response. Only silence. Only the oppressive shadows that danced across the creaking boards of Reid's childhood home. It was unsettling. Never before had Geoffrey anticipated that he'd have to force feed a leech with a rat. He wouldn't necessarily say he was proud of himself for what he did but desperate times call for desperate measures. Geoffrey promptly broke the neck of the writhing rodent and climbed onto the bed so he was straddling Reid's waist. 

The ekon stiffened and twisted beneath his weight to stare up at him with pleading eyes. The glossy shine reflected back in the silvery light that dripped like liquid steel into the room through the slips of the dark curtains. Jonathan's hands shoved weakly against Geoffrey's chest as the hunter gripped him by his jaw and squeezed until he was forced to oblige the command. He shoved the rat into Jonathan's mouth forcing his fangs to puncture the warm flesh. The fresh blood trickled from the entry points and slid down his tongue towards the back of his throat where he was forced to swallow or choke. He started to choke drawing a concerned look from the hunter as his throat worked around the unwelcome source of nourishment before he corrected the flow and was able to properly swallow.

Geoffrey squeezed the vermin trying to massage the blood flow into the vampire's mouth until he had salvaged most of the nutrients from the tiny body. Geoffrey sat back against Jonathan's knees as he stared expectantly at him. One hand pawed after the rodent still impaled on his fangs until he could properly spit it out. 

"There's three more, Reid. Don't make me force you again." It was a cold warning that the ekon considered with sluggish submission. The defeated expression he wore didn't leave his face as he pawed for the box. Geoffrey kept vigil in the vampire's lap so he couldn't escape and handed him each broken body from the box. The sickening crunch as he euthanized each rat was the only other sound in the room aside from his own steady breathing and the deafening beat of the only living heart left in this dark abyss they found themselves in.

One by one Jonathan consumed the nectar of each sacrifice and deposited the ragdoll remains into the box with a neutral expression. Slowly the deathly look that haunted him began to liven up and recede. It wasn't a miracle cure but a little bit of fresh blood was enough to make him look less like a corpse and more like a dying man.

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands when he finished. The gentle shake of his shoulders was the only tell of his misery as he shielded the crimson rivulets that puddles down his cheeks in slow moving currents. Geoffrey felt the mangled claws of guilt digging into the pit of his guts and wrench hard with a sickening sensation. He didn't feel good for forcing the leech but he didn't know what else he could do for a man that apparently gave up on life itself. He wound his fingers into the stained and filthy front of his shirt and leaned down until his forehead braced against Jonathan's. A shuddering useless breath escaped the ekon, reeking of fresh blood as pale blue eyes pierced the darkness of the room to meet the hunter's sympathetic gaze. He closed his own eyes and sighed heavily, one hand slipped up to cradle the side of Jonathan's head as the ekon's hands withdrew to linger against his chest. His fingers overlapped Geoffrey's with barely even a twitch in them.

"M' sorry if this seems cruel, Reid." He murmured. "If that's what it takes to get through to you then let it be so. I'll be cruel and I'll be merciless until you open your fucking eyes and actually look at me."

"I take no pleasure in causing you pain." He added after a pause of pregnant silence. He worked the words around in his mouth and tightened his jaw. He swallowed hard and felt the clammy touch of the doctor's skin against his. It was unsettling. With every breath the cloying sweetness of blood permeated his nostrils and clung to the roof of his mouth. "I know not what has become of you while you were away but you're here now and I want to help. Please, Jonathan. Let me help you. I wish to make amends for whatever nonsense I've wrought in our past."

He was met with an unending silence but the ekon seemed to relax beneath his weight. It was hardly a sign but Geoffrey declared it as good enough. "You need to feed. No more hidin from me. I'll catch as many damn rats as I need to if it means you'll feed again." He chided. Still there was no response. He doubted he would get one anytime soon. At least now when he looked at the ekon he appeared to actually meet his gaze instead of stare stupidly through it.

He raked a critical eye over the ekon and the absolute mess that he was in. His clothes were worn and filthy from numerous blood stains. The fabric was stiff in areas where it had dried and felt scratchy under Geoffrey's touch. He grimaced and leaned back so he could sit upright. "You need a bath Reid. And a fresh change of clothes. Come on." He pulled at the ekon to draw him forward as he slid off his lap and stood beside the bed. 

Jonathan was hesitant to comply but after several minutes of finagling and coaxing the man to his feet, Geoffrey managed to drag him towards the bathroom to get cleaned up. He supposed he should be thankful for the wealth of toffs and their fancier homes as it reduced the amount of actual effort he had to put into cleaning the leech doctor up. He prepared the warm water and practically stripped the man down before giving him a gentle shove towards the bath. Geoffrey busied himself with disposing of the filthy clothes and turned on several lights around the home so he could actually see without needing to squint in the dark. He heard the bath water splashing around the ekon as he settled into it. It was followed by the quiet drips of stray droplets as he monotonously scrubbed the grime from the sickly yellow and grey tone of his skin.

Geoffrey rummaged around in the doctor's wardrobe to procure a clean set of clothes and returned with a towel from the cabinet. Presenting both to the ekon as he set them on the bathroom sink expectantly. Geoffrey slipped out of the room to give the man some privacy and spent the time changing the stained bedding on the bed with a fresh set he found tucked in the wardrobe. It looked like a spare set for the winter months but as far as Geoffrey was concerned, Jonathan wasn't hindered by temperature changes anymore.

With the bed changed and nothing more to really do to keep his mind busy, Geoffrey shucked off his jacket and stuffed his gloves inside the front pockets and hung it up. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he leaned against the doctor's desk and listened to the ominous silence. It stretched on for several minutes drawing a nagging sense of concern to his brow as he turned towards the door. He gave it a brief knock before cracking it open to peer inside. Jonathan was just sitting in the tub staring off into the water as if lost in another infuriating trance. The water was a filthy burgundy from the blood that matted his beard and left red smears across his skin from his bouts of crying. The bitterness that swelled in his expression was hard to ignore.

"Jonathan." Geoffrey prodded. The ekon finally blinked, the only acknowledgement towards the hunter's presence. "I think it's time to get out." There was a slow subtle nod of the doctor's head as he complied. Geoffrey shut the door and waited for him to finally leave the bathroom. When Reid opened the door he was only half dressed with a pair of trousers on and his shirt hanging over his shoulders. He hadn't even attempted to button it up. Geoffrey sighed and beckoned him over so he could fix it for him.

"What have you been doing all this time?" The hunter inquired, glancing up to see the doctor's mournful expression. "I know it's been a rough few months but you can't continue living like this, Jonathan. It's not healthy." The irony of those words stung a bit. What a sorry mess this turned out to be.

Geoffrey managed to coax him into bed just before the break of dawn, and slipped out of the house before the morning market grew too lively and his presence was noticed. He unbarricaded the front door and borrowed the house key to make his visit the next night somewhat smoother.

It had become a habit after that. The sun would go down and Geoffrey would approach the Manor house with a box of live rats he caught earlier in the day. He'd sit beside the ekon and watched vigilantly as he'd consume every last drop until the writhing bodies twitched no more. They built a routine out of it. Geoffrey rummaged about to find something in the house that could draw the ekon's attention. Sometimes he'd tell him stories about past hunts or his travels with Carl. Sometimes he'd find a book from the Reid family library and read it out loud to him. (With occasional commentary about how moronic the main characters were being about their decisions or romantic affiliations. ' _Come on, get yer heads out yer arses and see that they love ya you bloody idgit!')_

The library consisted mostly of romance novels with a few more factual texts lining the lesser used shelves. It was quickly made apparent that Mrs. Reid adored her romances, especially those of a more sultry tone with heated encounters in scandalous situations. Honestly, he could see where Jonathan got his tastes from. Geoffrey had brought a few choice books over from his own collection one evening and read one during a wicked storm with only the fire from the hearth in the parlor to illuminate the words. Jonathan was stretched across the couch, a thin blanket draped around his shoulders where his fingers fussed absentmindedly with the frilled ends of the woven fabric.

Even in the faint light, Geoffrey could see that the doctor's coloring had improved to the more natural pallor he associated with ekons. His eyes were no longer bloodshot from bouts of unprovoked crying and he appeared far more alert and responsive when Geoffrey arrived. He did still need to remind the doctor to pay attention or take a bath occasionally but he was getting better. They were baby steps of progress. He still didn't speak and once in a while the ekon would doze off during the visits and awake with terror in his eyes and a sudden violent thrashing as he whimpered and struggled against the blanket that tangled around him. A few times he grappled a hold of Geoffrey and refused to let go no matter what quiet promises or stern warnings the hunter issued. Jonathan's shaky hands and the subtle quake throughout his body would be enough to ease him back by the ekon's side and cast away his resignations about how close he was getting to a leech.

Strong arms would wrap around the vampire and draw him into a firm hug. A light reassurance for what little Geoffrey was able to give. He still did not know or understand what had happened after he and Jonathan parted ways in the Cemetery that fateful night but whatever it was, it shattered the man before him into pieces. There was no one left to pick them up with all their jagged edges and missing slivers. Geoffrey tried to put them back together, he really did but there was only so much his unskilled hands could accomplish without drawing blood from his fingers in the process. He feared that the doctor would never be the man he once was and maybe, just maybe that was okay. Maybe the world didn't need that Jonathan Reid anymore. It certainly never appreciated him either. Geoffrey realized with a stinging thorn of regret digging into his chest that he was among those few who had cast the man off into the abyss without a second thought. It was only at the very end did he see the worth of the man before him. Yes, a man, not a monster for Jonathan had proven he was no mere beast. He stitched together and mended his own fate and patched the path that he laid before himself. He spit into the eye of those that would attempt to control or stop him and he trudged on into a level of hell beyond mortal comprehension.

He was a man who had given it all to save a city and lost himself in the aftermath. He had been stepped on and ignored, batted aside and threatened repeatedly by those he thought he could trust most and Geoffrey was right there in the middle of it all, feeding the fires for the very same man's funeral pyre. He regretted his actions now. He saw the truth and the error of his ways. Sadly, that morsel of knowledge didn't show itself until it was far too late. He supposed he could plead for clemency but he doubted the man would be so eager to give it. Geoffrey accepted his fate as it lay before him but he refused to stand by and watch Jonathan fall to a similar failing.

Days stretched into weeks as their routine grew and evolved. After a full month of Geoffrey's continuous visits, he proposed a radical idea to the ekon. Jonathan had slowly been recovering from his month of solitude. His normal coloring had returned, his skin was more plump and saturated. He no longer looked like a half starved corpse. His eyes were bright and back to their inquisitive nature. Geoffrey found he no longer had to work to convince Reid to leave his room or more specifically, his bed for that matter. He was bathing and dressing himself regularly, and eating the rats Geoffrey captured without any fuss. He'd dare say he regained a healthy appetite even.

Given these proactive accomplishments, Geoffrey thought it would be an appropriate next step to get the ekon out of the house. And by doing so, he offered the idea that they should take a walk through Temple Garden Park. In the spirit of Valentine's day and in celebration of the end of the war, the park had become a busy hub for couples reunited and families celebrating the end to such a horrific episode in the city's history. There were lights strewn about the fences and vendors selling hot drinks and bouquets of flowers and sweet pastries to the passersby. There was music from private performers standing on the curves and corners of the neatly manicured lanes.

Jonathan was well dressed in anticipation of their outing and Geoffrey shared the nervous sentiment that rattled through the doctor. He fidgeted uneasily as they walked the short distance down the street towards the park. There were hushed murmurs of passersby that had spotted the familiar face of the previously grieving man. Some of which Geoffrey recognized from his earlier encounters spying on the neighborhood. He ignored their barbed words and skewed glances towards the doctor. He settled a firm hand atop his shoulder and guided them towards a vendor selling flowers. Some of which, Geoffrey noted, the ekon couldn't touch without being harmed by its poisonous presence but the soft scent and vibrant colors were worth the look.

They walked the lanes and listened to the music as a violinist played sappy love songs. Jonathan hummed quietly to himself, drawing a surprised smile to Geoffrey's face when he realized the sound came from the doctor. Jonathan gestured towards a food vendor selling warm coco and fresh breads from the bakery inside the Plaza off the edge of the park. Geoffrey was puzzled by the directive until he noticed the ekon silently ordering a drink and a pastry before briskly returning to Geoffrey's side. The relaxed smile on his face was a reassuring one as Geoffrey sheepishly accepted the offering.

As they walked, they would occasionally bump shoulders or crowd into each other's space. Jonathan would stop to listen to a familiar song one of the street musicians played. Geoffrey watched from his side as the doctor would close his eyes and soak in the sounds and smells all around. The change from the war torn streets he once used to roam, now lively and loud with the familiar hustle and bustle. The chill of winter still lingered even though much of the snow had melted in the sunny evenings prior. The soft tap of their boots on the cobblestones was a fulfilling sound without the distant screech of skal or the roar of a sewer beast lurking in the shadows. The mysterious fog that rolled off the Thames into the lower streets of London added a mystical aura to the park that Geoffrey found invigorating with the added nightlife. 

There was a pep in Jonathan's step as he swayed and hummed the music, appearing on the cusp of dancing right there by his lonesome on the street. He withheld and imparted an apologetic smile to Geoffrey as he settled in. His head tilted to catch the sudden shrill whistling of birds nearby. Both men turned to look, only to find an elderly dark skinned woman resting on a bench with a colorful shawl stretched across the seat beside her. She held one of many carefully painted whistles that lay beside her, one which she blew into and was met with the playful chirps of a colorful and exotic bird. Each whistle was carved to resemble the birds they sounded like. To say Jonathan's interest was piqued was an understatement as he strolled towards the woman. She greeted him with a warm smile and gestured towards her menagerie.

"See something you like, gentlemen?" She chimed.

"These for sale?" Geoffrey inquired.

"They are, sir. Five shillings."

Geoffrey raised a brow at that and found Jonathan was already digging into his pocket for his money. To his even greater surprise, the ekon bought two of the strange yet beautiful whistles. One of which he handed to Geoffrey to try with an childlike innocence. Reid shamelessly started to blow on his whistle and delighted with a deep throaty chuckle at the resulting sound. It certainly sounded like a magnificent bird. Light and fluttery but still sweet and melodic. Geoffrey gave his a try and relished in the bubbling excitement that came from such a simple and childish activity.

They didn't linger long in the park as the night stretched on and many of the West End populace started to turn in for the evening. The workers that helped with the event began to clean up a little bit past midnight as the pair found their way back to the ekon's home. Reid still toyed with the whistle as he played a melody similar to the one the violinist had. The notes had even started to become stuck in Geoffrey's head as well.

He took their coats when they entered the residence as Jonathan strutted further inside. Geoffrey was still hanging his up when he noticed the doctor had disappeared down the hall and into the parlor. A moment later that same melody played through the crackling speaker of the gramophone that once belonged to Aubrey Reid. Geoffrey’s head snapped up as he walked towards the doorway, idly rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he got comfortable. He was met with the soft humming of the ekon lying just below the notes of the music player. He recognized it as some french number now, one of which he hadn’t heard of before tonight. In fact, Geoffrey didn’t even realize the music player even functioned still until now.

Jonathan didn’t seem dissuaded from his entertainment as he turned to greet the hunter with a genuinely charismatic smile. A little token piece of the old Jonathan that came careening back to the front of Geoffrey’s mind. It was contagious, he swore. This sudden unbridled enthusiasm lit up the ekon’s presence. Had he known that a simple street corner musician could draw out such a response, he may have tried music a long time ago. Or maybe not, Geoffrey wasn’t exactly good with these sorts of situations. O’Connor was far better at reading what people need. Geoffrey was just good at killing things.

Jonathan reached out to take Geoffrey by the hand to which the hunter obliged the motion, allowing the ekon to pull him in close. He watched with a critical eye, taking in every sway and motion as Jonathan coaxed Geoffrey’s hands into the correct places. His expression was relaxed and easy going, a lazy contented purr rumbling out of his chest as the doctor persuaded Geoffrey into following his steps. This was possibly the first time the hunter had been dragged into dancing with someone and he found the feeling was rather nice. The song rang throughout the room as Jonathan guided every sway and step, their positions growing steadily more intimate as the first song ended and the next began.

Geoffrey smiled to himself when their chests pressed together and his own stiff posture smoothed out. His hands dropped to draw the doctor closer until his chin rested on Geoffrey’s shoulder and the hunter’s lips were tickling the shell of his ear as he murmured. “You’re really good at this.”

The breathy chuckle that rolled out was a welcome relief as Geoffrey took the lead if only a little and turned them around in a dramatic sway. Jonathan perked up and smiled a devilish smile of predatory approval. His fangs poked out from behind his lips but Geoffrey held no fear or apprehension in their presence. He smiled, warm and tender as he pressed their foreheads together in a gentle bump. He couldn’t exactly recall who stole that last shred of space that lingered between them but before Geoffrey could speak a word, their lips were brushing together and crooked into a satisfying pressure. Tongues darting, mingling around the sweetness of the hunter’s mouth and the softness of the doctor’s lips. Geoffrey tilted his head and slid his hands around the ekon’s waist until their hips were pressed firmly together, deepening the connection with passion as the music swam through his thoughts.

The feverish brightness in the ekon’s eyes was a puzzling look that was easily remedied as Geoffrey raised a hand to cup his face and drew him in for another chaste taste that steadily grew more desperate. No words were needed as far as either man was concerned. They mingled together, bodies pressed tight in a claustrophobic embrace. Gasping, grappling and kissing with a hunger that went beyond the unquenchable thirst of the ekon or the touch starved desperation that both men felt burning like a fire in their bones. An electric jolt hummed beneath their skin lighting all their nerves up like a starry sky. Geoffrey’s cheeks flushed with warmth as they wrangled themselves towards the lounge sofa where they collapsed upon. The old wood frame groaned against the force as it shuddered against the wooden boards beneath. Fingers curled into hair, combing it back out of each other’s faces in messy kisses and frantic glances as they followed each other’s lead little by little.

Geoffrey chuckled softly between them, burying his face against the ekon’s neck and inhaled deeply of his scent. Of the cooler skin that felt chilled compared to his own burning core. The feel of his fingers through Jonathan’s hair as they carded the silky strands apart and raked fingers through the bristles of his beard as he caressed his jaw and drew him in for another kiss. He straddled the ekon’s hips, trying to balance in the limited space of the furniture as he gazed down at the doctor who had once fallen so hard beneath the ashes of a city, now resurfaced anew if only a little bit damaged along the way. His scars marred him like a broken vase carefully glued back together again with a stream of gold, refining his worth by the hardships he had overcome and not that which he started this journey with. Every piece painted a picture that led them both to this very moment.

Two hearts beating at a very different pace, two souls bound by threads of varying strengths. Geoffrey knew his life was not going to be a long one and what years he had left to offer were all he wished to give to the man that lay before him. It wasn’t much, he knew that now but it was all he had in this meager world. He tilted his head into the searching hands of the ekon as slender fingers roughened by years of hard work cradled his face and drew him back down until they were but a hair’s breadth away. Jonathan pressed a kiss to Geoffrey’s brow and snaked his arms around his shoulders as he drew him into a firm embrace. The hunter was content to remain cuddled up to the ekon with only the steady beats of their hearts dancing around one another to the melody of an old song rustling like static from the music player.


End file.
